I Was Nineteen
by aprettyfacelies
Summary: A moment of silent understanding passes before he's gone and she's racking her brain for a reason why she's allowing him to control her so easily. Like a muppet master and his favorite little toy.


The room was filled with nothing but laughter and this positive aura that washed over her like cold water, slowly soothing her nerves and sending them away for when she next chose to summon them. Though her and her company all held glasses of white and red wine in their hands, a rosy and deliciously sweet smell bounced off the brown walls and each breath of air she took caused her to feel lighter; like the feeling she got whenever she accepted a beautiful bouquet of flowers from a fan or a friend of hers.

It had become somewhat of an after-show ritual for _Flare on Fury_. They would gather for about two hours after a show at the local bar and hang out, drinking enough to feel a little buzzed but not enough to forget the long list of lyrics they had been performing not long before. Stories from previous nights would be shared and pictures would be taken to remember their months together long after they had parted ways, the compulsory complaint about college in general and homework they had forgotten to complete popping into their conversations now and then.

Tina watched with a furrowed brow as she saw a familiar figure walk toward the table, asking herself how he managed to slip away from the group without being noticed. She placed her half empty glass of liquor on the table as she allowed her gaze for fall elsewhere; knowing all too well that the approaching band mate would turn her staring at him in curiosity into a way to feed his ego. The blonde beside her was the first to see him and make the rest of the table aware of his presence.

"And a wild Puckerman appears." Claire's soft and airy voice rang like a song over everyone else's, causing the occupants of the table to turn to her and then follow her eyes to where Puck stood, and his hands jammed into his pockets with his trademark smirk put in place. When his eyes met Tina's and the corner of his lips seemed to tug a little more, she knew it was because of her. And when he spoke with the slightest bit of humour laced with his innocent words, she forced herself not the cringe.

"What'd I miss?"

Ever the chatterbox when he isn't behind his drum set, Alex began to fill the mohawk wearing guitarist on how his younger sister got caught trying to cover her English teacher's office with toilet paper and glitter. Their voices and laughter filled her apartment's lounge once again but she couldn't really tear her eyes away from that smirk. It was as though it was challenging her, taunting her to a point where she wanted to sit up and rip his mouth off of his face. She settled for clenching her fists every so often and forcing herself to look away for him. Unfortunately, it didn't solve the problem of her thoughts giving her reasons to believe that he'd tampered with her belongings in some way or another, seeing as he was so fond of pranking the lot of them.

She eventually decided to scull down the remainder of her drink before getting up and mumbling about needing to get a refill. As she walked across the wooden floorboards the made up her kitchen floor, she came to the realization that drunken mistakes made in celebration ruined lives. Her theory was proven the moment she heard footsteps other than her own, stopping once their owner's body torso was pressed against her back and his arms wrapped around her waist. She hated how she melted into his embrace, her hands releasing the bottle of wine and empty glass she had been holding, sliding down the counter and gripping onto the edge of it as she tried her hardest not to move.

"Are you always going to be this damn uptight now?" His question came as a warm whisper against the back of her ear. "Get the pole out of your ass, Cohen-Chang."

She scanned her brain furiously for a solid comeback to his light-hearted insult but found none, instead parting her lips and sighing against her will at the familiarity of his touch. That's when it hit her that she needed him again, that's when it hit her that she wanted him again. But she pushed back those thoughts, forcing herself to believe that he wasn't hers to have again and she wasn't his.

He answered to her silence by pressing a gentle kiss at the base of her neck, the start of a trail of kisses that lead up to her jaw line. Her spine tingled and her fingernails scraped the smooth surface beneath them as she tried her best not to make her sound. It was the only verification that he truly needed; knowing getting her to verbally respond was a much greater achievement than getting her entire body to writhe under his touch.

He commented on her refusal to speak when he leaned up and kissed her cheek. "And now I'm getting the silent treatment."

She chose to retaliate by pushing the lower half of her body back, rolling it a little and causing her skirt clad behind to press against his hips. He pursed his lips to muffle the groan that crept up his throat, releasing a throaty chuckle as her took a step back.

"I love how you only remember it happened when it suits you."

"We agreed to forget about it, and that's what I'm trying to do."

"'Trying' being the operative word."

"You're the only reason I ca - _oh_."

Somewhere in the dark corners of her mind, she's trying to figure out when his hand slid down and found camp under her skirt and why she hadn't noticed. The rest of her brain's focusing on how a simple pressing of his fingers against a hooded area sent such a strong jolt through her. Her next breath was shaky and her hand's left the counter, looking for his wrist with the intention of... She's not entirely sure. Half of her wants to get his hand away and slap him for being so forward, the rest of her just wants to help him slip her undergarment down her legs.

Before she has time to make her choice or even get a grip on his arm, the warmth of hold is gone and replaced with a cold breeze. She looks over her shoulder only to find he isn't there and when she turns her head and sees at his body rested against the door frame, she uses up most of her energy simply not to stare at his built arms.

A moment of silent understanding passes before he's gone and she's racking her brain for a reason why she's allowing him to control her so easily. _Like a muppet master and his favourite little toy_, she thinks as she follows after him, making sure not to alert the remaining two in the living room of her movement in the dark. She's still looking over her shoulder when she bumps into him, causing hem both to stumble forward for a few seconds before he finds his footing and she grabs onto him for dear life. When she looks up from the floor, she's greeted by his smile and she bites back the shy smile that's threatening to take over her features.

He turns a little as she follows him as she keeps their gazes locked, and soon she can hear a door creaking open with his back pressed to it. When he lets go of her arm and uses it to close the door behind her, she takes in the lack of light and steps back as a start to finding a light switch, only to hit against the door just after he had locked it. When it registers in her mind that there is virtually no room for movement, she realizes where they are.

"The supply closet? You couldn't wait two more doors -"

She doesn't know if she's happy or angry that he's chosen this method as a means of shutting her up, but she certainly can't complain. His lips were softer and more inviting than she remembered and she moans happily against them when his hand settle on her hips and pull her closer to him. She savours the feel of their bodies flush against each other, considering grinding her hips to him when he abruptly pulls back and turns her body around, smashing the front of it flat against the only flat wall around them. She cursed under her breath when he cheek hits the wall and his hand finds its place over her panties again.

"Do you realize how much you've fucked up my life in the last two months?"

The anger in his tone is enough to make her moan again and he brings his free hand up to clamp her mouth shut and she tilts her head back and rests it against his shoulder as another moan leaves her mouth, only to get muffled by his hand. He was going insane just as she was losing her mind and the thought that she wasn't the only one suffering from the images of that night was strangely comforting.

He hooked his finger on the waistband of her plain black underwear and roughly pulled them down her legs, causing the lace accent on the top of them to tear. Using his knee, he pulled them down to her knees. His hand was frantic as it grabbed everything it could feel, everywhere but the part of her that seemed to be growing hotter by the second. Her whimpers only caused him to grope her ass a little harder than he needed to and when she widened her legs, his hand vanished and reappeared on her chest. She whined in complaint, and he scoffed in response.

"I took a girl to bed last week," he began conversationally, the anger having drained from his words completely. "Think her name was Lily, or Lavender. Some kind of plant." In any other situation she would have laughed at him referring to a flower as a plant but between concentrating on his fingers skilfully unbuttoning her shirt and trying not to throw herself at him more than she already was, she couldn't find time to laugh, or snicker, or giggle.

"Nice rack, blonde hair with pillows for lips and legs that went on for miles, _practically my perfect girl_." She thought it the same time he said it and she wanted to feel annoyed at him for talking about a seemingly poster perfect woman while they were in the position they were in but his hand had pulled her bra over her breasts and he was tugging her right nipple between his fingers in a delightful rhythm and all she could do was moan again.

That's what he always reduced her to.

In the comfort of her own bedroom, with the lights off and his melodic voice being emitted from the speakers of her laptop accompanied by a single guitar, her fingers buried knuckle deep into her heat, the thought of him reduced her to nothing but flimsy thrusts and loud moans. With a spoon in her mouth and a bowl of his infamous spaghetti and Puckerman sauce in front of her, his culinary skills reduced her to moans. When her hand was in his at the music store and he was dragging her towards music by indie bands she had heard once in passing when she was seated in his bedroom, studying with him, he reduced her to moans (annoyed and tired moans, but moans nonetheless).

She's pretty certain she'll never get tired of it, moaning for him, because he always makes it worth it somehow. And that scared her, terribly.

His voice gets back a little bit of the edge it had lost. "There I was, pounding her like it was some kind of fucking punishment and all I kept thinking about was you."

She can hear the rustling of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers and she realizes that his hand's not fondling with her breast any longer. She doesn't know where her mind takes her during these blackouts, and she wishes they could both just go through one while they do this. The fingers belonging to the hand covering her mouth dig into her cheeks for a split second and she takes that as her warning. As she had expected, seconds later the head of his penis is being guided over her opening and she pushes her hips back and parts her legs as much as she can with a pair of panties right above her knees.

"She doesn't feel the way Tina does," he mumbles into her ear evenly as he slides his shaft inside of her, and her walls clench around him greedily and all he does is grunt as he steadily slides deeper into her. "She doesn't smell the fucking way Tina does, like vanilla and cinnamon." His words sound rehearsed, like he made sure to practice being able to speak while sliding his member past her rapidly tightening walls. But the honesty drenched over each syllable makes her close her eyes and want to listen without doing anything else.

The hand that had been guiding his length soon finds her hand and her tents it with his; bringing it up the wall until it their entwined hands were right next to his face. It was an affection gesture at a time when he was working his way on filling her completely, only to pull out and start with his unmercifully fast paced thrusts. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement that something had changed, that everything was about to change and that she understood every word he was saying and she was prepared to positively ruin his life even more, because that's what girlfriends were built to do.

A smile crossed his features for the briefest moment at her gesture.

"You put me off bimbos for life now, you're going to have to get used to the fact that you're stuck with me for a while." He slid out of her at a teasingly slow pace, a whimper that sounded more like her begging him not to pull out of her coming out of her mouth and hitting his palm with warm air. She squealed and her eyes snapped open when he pushed back in, and out again and back in and she was so close to losing it, she was shuddering but she needed to hold out for him.

Her moans are soon joined by his grunts and groans and her head lulls forward because his wrist has grown limp but their locked hands seem to be squeezing the life out of each other and they're feeding off of it like hungry wolves. They bait each other's climaxes closer by angles their hips differently from time to time and the sound of their hips slapping together wetly makes him lick his lips as he realizes he has a new found appetite for just the taste of her.

His hand slips from her mouth just as his last thrust pushes her over the edge, a loud moan of his name leaving her mouth as she shuddered in front of him, her thrusts becoming incredibly erratic as she rode out her orgasm as got him closer to his. He bit down on her shoulder to keep himself from saying her name at his peak, earning another moan from her and another tremble of her hips and clenching of her inner muscles, her body practically milking him for all he was worth.

Beads of sweat lined both their foreheads and the hold they had on each other's hands loosened but they didn't let go. They panted for air and collected their bearings, smiling both from the high they had just experienced and the fact that they weren't going to have to deny it any longer, this insatiable need for one another. It felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she sighed in relief at the feeling of freedom.

The knock at the door punched a hole through their moment of peace, and they both tiredly tiled her head in the direction of the door.

"Claire and I are leaving for the night. See you guys tomorrow."

She breathed out a laugh and he chuckled, faintly hearing the front door bang to indicate they had left before she spoke.

"Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that." He mumbled as he nuzzle his nose against her neck and pulled out of her, pounding back into her without waning and causing her to let out a cry out loud. "But I'm not done with you just as yet," his breath seemed to catch in his throat as he sank deeper into her wet folds, "Two months is a shitload of time, stutter-fly."

She groaned in response, dampening her lips with one slick swipe of her tongue before asking, "C-Could we move out of here first and go somewhere more comfortable? Like my room, with a bed?"

"Can't."

"Why not?"

He resumed the steady movement of his hips, nipping at her earlobe as a smirk graced his lips again. "I'm started to think I liked you better when you were quiet."

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he hit the rough patch of flesh within her, making a mental note to ask him what he had done with her bedroom while he was away from the table after they were done making up for lost time.


End file.
